


Misery Loves Company

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural, msbrokenbrightside



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Samifer Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural, https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbrokenbrightside/pseuds/msbrokenbrightside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes talking about the bad isn't bad at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:**

> Teenagers -- AU
> 
> A/N: Based off of radalecki's drawing.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

It’s warm out in the summer night, stretched out on the grass and staring up at the sky. In the background Lucifer’s red mustang (Sam’s 89% certain that’s not really his) sits quietly, sun bouncing off the hood of the cherry red and making hot flashes of orange flash out if you stare at it. Before Sam would eye it quietly, think about how in love with the car Dean would be, than scowl at himself for always drawing Dean into every internal conversation. It’s silly, right? But apparently, that was Lucifer in a nutshell, too. Every conversation drew back to Michael like a moth to a flame, and Sam would watch the frustration in furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. It’s a different type of frustration, one darker and stuck on repeat. It was as if he could never be free of the person he was trying so desperately to hate but couldn’t succeed. He helplessly was head over heels with his family and terrible circumstances and events put him at odds, labeling him as an outsider that he, too, began to believe in. He became what they called him, but Sam liked to think that if Lucifer had a flaw it would be loving too much and never knowing when to stop. 

Sam doesn’t think it’s much of a flaw, really. It’s...endearing. 

“Your dad going to be pissed?” Lucifer asked, eyes closed in his jeans and faded Over Europe Led Zeppelin t-shirt. “Isn’t six o’ clock your curfew?” Comes the teasing, but it’s gentle and soft around the edges this time around. Sam turns his head, eyeing the lanky blond with his mouth that’s twisted in that habitual smirk but... There’s something disappointed settling on Lucifer’s face and Sam can see the muscles in the older teen’s face tensing. It was as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

Sam remains quiet for a while, sitting himself up from the grass, eyes now settling on Lucifer’s bent knee. “I don’t know,” he confesses finally, his hands laid out before his crossed legs, beginning to pick at the grass. “I don’t see my dad all that much, I guess,” he added in a tone to explain that he wasn’t as disjointed and troubled from it, even though he honestly was. Sam felt as if he was going through the motions and once in a blue moon his father appears when he’s already fast asleep or off at school. He would only know if the coffee pot has been used and there’s a scent of leather on the couch that his father swung by. When he did run into his dad, it was as if all hell broke loose. Couldn’t stop fighting, no matter how hard they tried.

Turning back to Lucifer, there’s a set of pale blue eyes boring into Sam, and it looks like there’s something Lucifer wants to get off his chest. Sam just stays painfully still, feeling his foot go numb from not moving it, but he dared not move. Lucifer was like a stray dog. One minute you think you have its trust, the next it’s spooked. One minute it’s seething at you, the next it wants practically nothing to do with you. Sam does’t know why Lucifer is the way he is. He only knows bits and pieces from what he heard around school or from the youth himself (which is hardly anything). Lucifer was this angry enigma wrapped up in an angrier enigma. A stubborn rebel but no one was entirely sure what he was rebelling against anymore. Sam thinks that even Lucifer doesn’t even know anymore.

Lucifer works his jaw, averting his gaze and exhaling slowly. “...yeah,” he swallowed, “Me neither.” 

Sam knew there was more to say just as there was more to say on his own father. His own frustrations, wants and even crushing guilt that he did something to deserve this. Sam fights back the urge to pry further. He knows how much Dean hates it when he goes ‘counsel mode’ on him. 

Sam’s so lost in his own thoughts, feeling that familiar pang of loss hitting him in the gut whenever he thinks of his dad. He’s so deep in himself that he didn’t realize Lucifer abruptly sat up and moved himself closer to Sam. It’s only when the blond yanked Sam by his t-shirt with a huffed out, “Come here, skinny” did he snap out of it. There’s grass on the back of Lucifer’s head and shirt, seeing it poke out along with his mussed hair. He has half a mind to laugh about it, but he’s more interested at the fact he was called skinny.

“I’m skinny? Who has a diet of cigarettes, energy drinks and black licorice?” Sam protested with a laugh before he’s tasting all of that in his mouth. He can taste smoke, the tang from the energy drinks and the subtle notes of the black licorice in Lucifer’s mouth, the blond having promptly shoved his mouth against his. There’s a demanding and desperate tone in the way Lucifer kisses, and Sam knows he should be appalled. Should be jerking away, scrambling onto his feet and screaming bloody murder. Instead he’s soothing the needy movements of Lucifer’s mouth, slowly reeling in his own control so they’re moving slower. Sam curiously is exploring and relishing in the sensations of kissing someone like Lucifer, and whenever Lucifer would become agitated at the gradual pace, a hand on the male’s arm put him at ease. 

Gulping for air between the parting of lips, it’s only when Sam felt his leg go numb did he quietly ease away. Licking his lips, absolutely flushed and growing a deeper shade of red at that damn smirk is racing on Lucifer’s face, he swiped at his nose before fiddling with his hair. The blond stretches his arms above his head before flopping back down on the grass, absolutely at peace with the world for a brief wrinkle in time. 

Sam is flustered at what just occurred between them but that heavy moment feels lighter. There’s a smile tugging itself onto Sam’s lips and he’s trying his best not to admit it access. 

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Lucifer yawns like a lazy cat basking in the sun, “I won’t leave you. Hate to break it to you.” 

The Winchester finally smiles to himself before lying back on the grass, enjoying the silence between them as they watched the sun fall from the sky together.


	2. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's too soon for Lucifer to meet the parents.

Sam has a rising hunch that Lucifer thinks he’s this self-proclaimed king of the school. There’s confidence and high demand when he walks, and people always seemed to cave into him. Although Sam had a hunch it’s because there’s always a threat somewhere inside the request. Lucifer had an odd assortment of friends, the ones where Sam’s certain they’ll grow up to be arms dealers, bank robbers, corporate hounds and white collar lawyers. They used to tease him relentlessly -- War and Pestilence -- but it came to a swift end after that day outside. 

Something happened between their solemn confirmations that there fathers abandoned them. Something that made the school’s notorious troublemaker suddenly possessive of him. It wasn’t outright possession, it was subtle. The school was suddenly bending over backwards for Sam. Even Dean was confused that his little brother wasn’t slumping in home with a bruise on his cheek or his backpack ripped to shreds anymore. 

Sam wasn’t sure how to explain that he was now heavily protected by America’s future dictator. 

Keeping up with ease with Lucifer’s long strides, he glanced up at the blond who was scratching at his eyebrow, fingers missing the piercing by less than an inch. He was walking him home, this week being notoriously involved in Sam’s life after hearing Ruby had a crush on the freshman. Lucifer spoke nothing of it, but Sam saw how Ruby now sat a football length away from him during lunchtime. Or the fact she practically sprinted away from him when he greeted her in the hallway. Before Ruby was friendly to Sam and now she nearly pissed her pants at the sight of him.

Sounded like Lucifer had a heart-to-heart with her. Sam’s not sure whether he’s flattered or flat-out nervous.

“My dad is coming home tomorrow...I think,” Sam broke the silence, “Staying for the weekend. Dean says he might show me how to drive the Impala.” Sam doesn’t know what else to talk about. Lucifer’s in one of his moods where if you say the wrong thing he’ll rip a stranger’s throat out. The Winchester really wished he wasn’t a professional in reading Lucifer’s moods already. 

Lucifer drops his hand, blue eyes kept straight ahead of him before a grin is twitching on his lips. “What? Want me to meet the parents sort of deal?” Lucifer asks in response and Sam goes red. That statement implied a lot and he didn’t want to read too much into it so soon. Now they’re right at Sam’s house, so if this gets embarrassing and personal, Sam can make a break for it.

“My dad...would not approve of that,” Sam made an awkward point at Lucifer’s ears, the older male arching a brow in question before understanding what the Winchester was pointing at -- his gauges. Giving a satisfied smirk, he stopped, raised his shoulders as his arms looped around dangerously low around Sam’s hips. 

“What are you,” he murmured lowly, pulling Sam in tight against him as he pressed his mouth playfully against Sam’s mouth, “A conservative Christian? Can’t wear skirts that goes past the knee? No sex till marriage?” Sam was now the official color of magenta, wiggling a bit in Lucifer’s grasp but with little to no effort. The blond smirked against his lips, pulling him into a kiss, shoveling his tongue past Sam’s lips. Sam made a weak whine that’s vibrating in the wet darkness of his mouth, and the blond is tempted to take advantage of the young brunette right here and now in suburbia. Instead he drags his tongue across the underside of Sam’s mouth, the black barbell pierced in his tongue running across. Pulling back slowly, teeth nipping at a swollen bottom lip, Lucifer took a step back. 

“Don’t think he’s going to like that one either, hm?” Lucifer smirks, giving a mocking salute before walking off. “Tell your pops that Satan says ‘hi’,” Lucifer waved his hand as he called out, chuckling lowly to himself. 

Sam only regained his bearings when he saw Lucifer become a pinprick in the horizon, rubbing at his cheeks and muttering something about homework.


	3. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer just wants Sam to stay with him just a bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside  
>  I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside  
> This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in  
> So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice.”_
> 
> **Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Frank Loesser**

“I should be heading back.” 

Lucifer pinched his shoulders back, something audibly cracking as his face contorted into instantaneous disapproval. It’s almost ten at night and Sol Records has switched the sign that read ‘open’ to ‘closed’ a good half hour ago. The sky is impeccably black, a mixture of colors swarming until they’re indistinguishable and it doesn’t help that the street lamps made it rather hard to see the sky. It’s late and it’s a Thursday, and Sam Winchester is sprawled on one of the broken-in couches that looks like the 70s threw up all over it. Awful shades of burnt orange and red, the decades passing making the colors fade into what -- honestly -- resembled burnt blood oranges. Sam, though, makes it look easy on the eyes with his impossibly long limbs and developed body. 

Sam’s freshly turned twenty and studying in Stanford, so a trip up north to Pennsylvania was not only a drastic change of weather but means a bit more to the blond than he’s letting on to the Winchester. There’s a fine line between being grateful and smothering, and pride restrains himself from doing the latter.

“Now?” Lucifer asks, making a show of looking out the window, “But it’s cold.” 

Sam snorts and stretches his long legs, shooting Lucifer a disbelieving look, “Like it’ll get warmer the later it gets.” Home means the hotel room Sam’s been staying at, something Lucifer was still displeased about, but Sam insisted. He didn’t want to be a pest to Lucifer’s roommate and he was a bit unnerved how dangerously gold the guy’s eyes were. Had to be some genetic deficiency and Sam wanted to ask, but the guy eyed him like he was a juicy porterhouse steak every time he was about. Lucifer would only get quizzical and cock his head to the right like some inquisitive feline when that topic came up, blissfully unaware of the problem. 

The blond glowers at the window menacingly, as if somehow it was this glass that was causing Sam to leave. Fingering one of his gauges -- smaller than those he wore in his high school years -- he turned around to gaze at the stout shelves of records. The entire building was rustic and bore character of its own with its wooden walls with artwork from the community in odd-end frames with the occasional mounted animal head (wooden carving, of course). This year the faux animal head with its oak finish was wearing a tilted Santa’s hat. The environment was warm, even with the main lights off and the Christmas lights aglow about the windows. Joshua, his boss, allowed Anna (one of Lucifer’s coworkers) to decorate the minute Thanksgiving passed. He would pleasantly walk about, talking of the wonders and soul in the classics as Anna went mad with the tinsel. 

Lucifer would just scrunch his nose and huff at the jolly little Santa by the register. Although, he must admit, the entire store smelled of roasted marshmallows. Whatever Anna did, the blond heartily approved. But, while the store was festive and cozy, Sam added something that made him want to linger. 

It’s too late to grab a bite to eat. Coffee shops closed hours ago. Sam’s hotel room was cramped and too sterile for his liking. And his roommate was entertaining a few guests. Lucifer just wanted Sam to stay but it felt like such a needy and childish request. While his intentions were to simply keep Sam about, he wasn’t about to claim the entirety of this intention was...pure. That ghastly couch needed a good scandal on it to make it more memorable, in Lucifer’s opinion. Although, Sam’s libido was bipolar in it’s own: one moment he needs to be buttered up and courted like a Disney princess while on the other hand there are those moments where Lucifer feels like the schoolgirl being robbed of her chastity. This certainly felt like a Disney princess moment. 

“You got a curfew still, Sammy?” Lucifer decides to taunt, watching Sam make a face at the nickname. “You know, I don’t have milk here to warm up, but I do have beer to help ya go to sleep.” The brunette is scowling and shifting on the couch, distracted and yet eased by the teasing. Sam seems to contemplate whether having a beer is something he will entertain, eyes twisting into a muted brown with just exhales of green dancing along it. Eyes lift up and see Lucifer staring cooly at him, but he notes the tension and the anxiety. It’s in his neck. Adam’s apple bobbing as he’s swallowing thickly, the way the muscles about his shoulders and neck are tense, a vein pressing visibly upward against skin -- ah. Lucifer was always cool as a cucumber, but his neck and back always seemed prone to seizing up and becoming ungodly tense whenever he was anxious. 

Before it’d transfer into anger and the inability to keep still, but Sam has watched as Lucifer matured that he only grew calmer when under pressure. He’d be all simple little smiles and nonchalant shrugs when his anger is at its peak, claiming he’s not upset at all, while in reality he’s murderous and vengeful. Sam’s not going to call his methodology mature whatsoever, instead sometimes troubled by what he’d see behind those icy blue eyes. The time spent apart due to college doesn’t help Sam gauge how far that has gone, but Sam has always been observant. He was a lover of Lucifer’s minuscule ticks and actions that no one else can appreciate like he can. 

“One beer.” Sam holds up one finger.

Lucifer smirks and easily walks off, laughing into the depths of the building, “Just one? You mean a couple?” 

“Just one -- _Jesus_ , what want to do body shots next?” Sam’s calling back out with light concern, can’t helping himself grin because just like that, he’s relaxed a worry that Sam couldn’t quite describe in the form of words just yet. It was still enigmatic and hidden from him, but it simply faded to be, replaced with a warm laughter in Lucifer’s voice that Sam’s spoiled with. The blond is laughing, the sound bouncing about the building and Sam’s smothered by Lucifer that it leaves him breathless and distracted.   “Did I just hear you suggest body shots?” Lucifer tilted his head, lips pulled into something devious and wild, as he returned back to the Winchester.

“Maybe it’ll be your Christmas present,” Sam answers back with a snort, eyes never leaving the blond.    
Sam only sits up when Lucifer comes lumbering a few feet closer, handing him his beer as he plopped down on the couch. The blond’s leg is thrown over his haphazardly and there is a way that Lucifer always manages to look like some content king sitting on his throne -- Sam usually being the throne. Impossible is the first word he wants to huff out, but feels himself jostled. The brunette watches in amusement as Lucifer arranges himself on the couch so he’s laying across it, legs resting across his. “Won’t your boss be pissed that we’re doing this?” Sam asks, but he’s already opening his own beer. 

“That eager to leave me?” The words slip out of Lucifer’s mouth, teasing but there’s bitterness in those words. “We’ll be fine. Long as we don’t burn the building down and clean up our mess, we’re good,” the blond continues after a brief moment in silence. 

The brunette’s face is twisted into habitual concern before he’s giving a gentle squeeze at Lucifer’s calf. “Body shots seem easy to clean,” he hums out, earning a pleased look from the blond who is back at ease on the couch. The blond kicked his shoes off, the princess in Sam expressed in that tightlipped disdain of his as the blond wiggled his sock-adorned toes, earning a huff. But instead of complaining, Sam just lays an arm over Lucifer’s ankles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Exactly. Now come on, Stanford, talk to me about this semester,” the blond encourages and he lays there listening to Sam talk about his law professors and courses. Lucifer would occasionally chime in with a bark of laughter, sneaking his feet underneath Sam’s sweater, pointing out that Sam was a bit of a teacher’s pet to nearly all his teachers. That earned Sam’s loud protests over Lucifer’s cackling, somehow the both of them ending up in the back office where the fridge rested. 

“You are a teacher’s pet. Should I be worried? Are you sharing kisses with your Ethical Theory professor?” Lucifer is busy teasing, watching Sam crouch down to pull a few more beers from the mini-fridge. 

Sam grumbles and stands up, handing a bottle to the shorter male. “Ew, he’s...not my type. I go for the jealous blonds who have piercings on their genitals,” Sam replies simply, opening his beer bottle as Lucifer leaned against the wall with his mouth opened. It fell as he gave a bothered and quizzical look.

“Wait...I never pierced my dick....” Lucifer replied. Sam blinked in thought, brows furrowed before giving a look in condolences to the blond. 

“Yikes...yeah, I wasn’t talking about you -- ”

“Ass,” Lucifer huffed as he earned a shoulder bumping against his, Sam chuckling somewhere by his jaw before it’s briefly muffled by the press of lips against skin. “Who taught you to be a little shit again?” the blond bit back, turning his head to meet the rather proud Sam Winchester, smug and chest puffed as if he won some sort of battle with him. “Body shots? Pierced dicks? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been hanging out with my younger brother,” Lucifer added, and while his tone is light he can’t help but feel suspicious. He can’t help it. He’s overbearingly possessive over Sam, not seeing it in the realm of discussion of if he does or doesn’t have a permanent claim on the Winchester. 

While Lucifer is certain Gabriel is busy drinking tequila off a model’s backside off in some white sanded beach in Florida, he can’t help but be grow worried. He won’t hesitate to gut his sibling and hang his damn intestines like tinsel -- 

“Oh no, it’s your fault,” Sam cuts through and Lucifer is brought back to reality, awarded with Sam’s playful grin. 

“Me? I’m pure as snow,” the blond returned, taking a sip of his second beer, hand moving to rest on the Winchester’s jutting hipbone. 

Sam snorted and gave a disbelieving expression, “You suggested we have sex in Michael’s bed after you got your assed kicked by him in some...game -- I forgot what it was. I wasn’t even legal at that time.” Lucifer frowned before smirking slightly in nostalgia before he’s slipping his hand in Sam’s back pocket.

“I was just trying to be the just person and...settle the score,” he explained diplomatically but Sam is rolling his eyes and slipping away to walk back into the main portion of the store. Lucifer should feel embarrassed by how easily he follows like a lovesick puppy, eyes glued to the middle of his back, but it has been months since he’s laid eyes on Sam. Almost six months and if he had the power to move Stanford to cold weather here, he would. 

Sam pauses to glance at the storefront window where snow is falling with thicker consistency. The Winchester slips onto the couch, placing his beer on the ground, “It’s seriously getting worse out there... I should head back.” Lucifer pauses in step at those words, following the brunette’s line of sight to stare out the window. Placing his half-filled beer bottle on a shelf, he moves towards Sam to straddle him on the couch, movements smooth. Sitting on his lap, his hands rested on his shoulders. 

“You sure you can make it through the cold? I don’t want you getting stuck in the snow,” the blond replies, because Lucifer is concerned but like hell does he want Sam to leave. The Winchester sighs and moves his head towards the blond’s, nose nosing against his cheek in a rather affectionate gesture. “And...I think your hotel bed will be fine without you for one night,” the blond teased and Sam is chuckling once more against his skin, before lips are colliding.

Sam’s hand sneaks underneath Lucifer’s shirt, grabbing at the soft curve of his side as the other rests on his upper thigh. Lucifer likes openmouthed kisses that hold nothing back and Sam willingly submits, tasting the beer off his tongue and snow. The blond always tastes of winter. It makes the hair on his arms rise as an icy tongue runs across the underside of his mouth, drawing out a choked groan as it sends shivers down his spine. Hands are tightening on Lucifer’s body, and that aggressive start diminishes into teasing and butterfly kisses by the eldest male. He’s nipping at his bottom nip, his own fingers running up Sam’s torso under the layer of clothes he still has on, shuddering at the temperature difference and arousal. Sam desperately wants it to get aggressive once more, but Lucifer only seems to bring it to a slower pace when Sam shows too much interest. 

The impish grin on those lips tell him its on purpose and Sam is left in that perpetual state of confliction when his body becomes too aware of itself. His toasty frame is eager to draw away from those cold fingers and icy mouth, but yet he can’t bear to be away from it. He wants every patch of skin to be touched and memorized over those long fingers, but his body is trembling and shivering at each caress. It leaves him needy for an answer and Lucifer taunts him with it with those brief kisses. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Lucifer was winter himself. All of its quirks, blessings and downfalls all meshed into one body: icy and cold, but had a way of being intimate in a way that’s warm like the way a pair of hands slip against each other. The way the earth just held her breath just for him. To be covered in blankets of new beginnings in the form of eggshell white snow. To have cheeks flushed from the cold, somehow bringing color when it should be sucking it away. Things that only make Sam heady and his chest warm, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

Sam wants to tell Lucifer these things but he doesn’t know how. Slowly it comes to him and that smile on his face is pulling even wider.

Hands fumbled about and find Lucifer’s, blue eyes soon staring with lazy inquisition at Sam. Fingers are sliding through each other and Sam clears his throat, feeling his cheeks flush in what’s going to come. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth and confesses in the warmth and safety of the record store, “I love you.” It comes out a bit messy and not as graceful, but to Lucifer it’s perfect. 

Lucifer answers with a smile, leaning forward to press a warm kiss against his lips. “I love you, too, Sam,” he replies with ease, looking pleasantly dazed at what just passed. Whatever past worry he had is simply no more, instead he’s pressing affectionate kisses across Sam’s clothed shoulders. Sam slides a hand out of Lucifer’s to rub at his back, earning pleased rumbles. They remain lulled by the other’s movements, Sam’s eyes closed as he enjoyed the light kisses that are now covering his neck.

“You know, if you wanted to do this you didn’t need to liquor me up,” Sam begins conversationally, feeling a kiss on his collarbone turn into a sigh against his skin.

“No, that’s not it. Just...wanted to give you reason to stay,” Lucifer admits in a grumble, shifting a bit to express he wasn’t as comfortable confessing such a thing. But Sam finds it endearing and as much as he loves Lucifer for his gifts and admirable traits, he’s far more in love with his shortcomings and flaws. He loves the way he can’t easily admit defeat, the way he gets hunched and wears a scowl when he’s expressing something that he sees as exposing himself, and even the way he becomes stubbornly fixated on a goal that it often turns out to be a tyrannical spree and power struggle. And things like this, while it always had the power to drive him nuts, he couldn’t help but love it nonetheless. 

“You could have just asked,” Sam smiles, watching Lucifer raise his head to lift his brows in disbelief before giving a wry smirk in humor. 

“Stay with me?” 

Sam hums in thought, thinking hard on the matter, “Well, it is cold outside...” The blond shifts in his lap, giving a troubled sound in his chest if Sam dared to answer differently. Sam can only grin and press a chaste kiss onto Lucifer’s frown. 

“Yes. I’ll stay.”


	4. I Think A Lot About...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer gives Sam a special gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written by msbrokenbrightside and she wanted it to be included in the series! So since she can't add it into the series, she submitted it to me! So all credit goes to her!

“Thought you were packing for Stanford?”

Sam has barely even walked into the store when Lucifer asks him the question. The blonde is behind the counter, playing with one of his piercings.

Sam was packing, a half hour ago, before he convinced Dean to drive him over to the record store where Lucifer worked.

“It’s only a visit, Lucifer, there’s not much to pack,” Sam says, giving Lucifer a humorous look.

Lucifer just throws his hands out a little as his elbows still rest on the counter.

“Probably be easier just to pack it all up and move down there now. You’re going to get in.”

Sam rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that breaks out onto his face. Lucifer has no doubt in his mind that Sam will get into most of the schools he’s applied to. If not all of them. And if you try to say to him that it’s a bit far-fetched Lucifer will be sure to tell you in depth how and why you’re wrong.

But even with Lucifer’s pride for Sam’s intelligence Sam’s started to feel the leash tighten ever since he began looking at schools. Lucifer’s been spending a lot more time with him now. But Sam can’t blame the blonde too much. Lucifer’s just becoming increasingly aware of how far California and Pennsylvania are from each other.

When Sam does finally reach the counter he leans over to kiss his metal-faced boyfriend on the lips. One of the nice things about Joshua is that he doesn’t care about the PDA as long as it’s kept short and doesn’t interfere with Lucifer’s work.

A customer comes up to the counter just as they’re pulling away and Sam moves to the side so that Lucifer can ring her up. He looks around the store once before Sam realizes that something is missing.

“Where’s Anna?”

“In the back,” Lucifer says, handing the customer her bag and receipt, “Someone sold Joshua a bunch of boxes full of tapes and records really cheap and they’re trying to sort through all of the dust and dirt.”

Lucifer reaches for Sam’s hand and once their hands are interlaced on the countertop they just talk about how each other’s day has been. How work was for Lucifer, how packing was for Sam, et cetera. It’s nice to just talk and feel Lucifer’s long fingers between Sam’s.

“Oh yeah,” Lucifer says suddenly after a period of silence; letting go of Sam’s hand and turning around to grab a cd case from one of the piles on the back shelf, “I made you this mix for your flight to Stanford.”

Lucifer holds it out for Sam and the younger boy takes it. There’s no writing on the cover, nor any cover art.

“What’s on it?” Sam asks, curious and possibly a bit frightened as to what the disc could have on it. Lucifer’s taste in music ranges from classical to some of the filthiest songs Sam’s heard in his life. He makes a note to listen to it using the safety of his computer and headphones before putting it in the car’s player.

Shoulders shrug.

“Just stuff that makes me think of you and me,” Lucifer says nonchalantly, even waving a hand dismissively to try and make it sound less endearing. Less significant. 

But Sam knows that Lucifer, being the type to take pride in what he makes and obsess over it until it’s perfect, probably put a lot of time into choosing the selection of songs. That he must have listened to the songs a thousand times to get it in the right order.

It doesn’t change that Sam will have to listen to it carefully. But it’s nice to know that it’s more than just recommendations.

Sam leans over the counter to press a quick kiss to the corner of Lucifer’s mouth. Although before his lips reach the spot Lucifer turns and presses his chapped lips against Sam’s. The kiss no longer remains quick.

Just as Lucifer is about to slip his tongue into Sam’s mouth and make the brunette groan, Anna comes from the back room behind the counter.

“Joshua wants you to help him unload the rest of the boxes while I work the front,” she says, sending an apologetic smile to Sam as she brushes dust out of her hair. 

Lucifer frowns but nods reaching over to kiss Sam but Sam beats him to it; kissing Lucifer on the cheek.

“Text me when you get home?”

It’s now Lucifer’s turn to roll his eyes, stealing one more kiss and mumbling against Sam’s lips, “I will.”

Sam murmurs a thank you back before they finally separate. Saying that they’ll see each other tomorrow. Lucifer has the day off and he wants to take the mustang out for a ride. Among other things.

Lucifer disappears into the back room and Sam waves’ goodbye to Anna, heading out. As he leaves Sam gets an idea to check and see if Lucifer wrote a list of the songs on the inside cover. But when he opens the case, almost out of the record store, it reveals something else.

Sam scowls.

It turns out the mix does have a name.

[Lucifer's Mix](http://25.media.tumblr.com/0985c12a9ec97354ac41c72312311291/tumblr_mjez9v5PcV1qdfzupo1_500.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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